PS 3505 
.L284 
H6 
1922 
Copy 1 






COPYRtGHTED. NOVEitfBEiR 29, 1922 






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HOPES, DREAMS AND MEMORIES 

DREAMS OF CHILDHOOD ^ « n 5 

There is a cottage by the river \ '^ <^4-n*^ 

Standing as it did of yore, ,V^ *^ 

Where the columbines are winding \ ^ "X* <*' 

All around the oaken door. 
The moss in on the shingles, 

The house is in decay, 

But that is where my happy, 
Happy Childhood passed away. 

Yes, those happy days of childhood, 

With each romping gii'l and boy, 

In our homestead on the Okaw 

In the state of Illinois. 

There we scampered up the hillside 

Or lounged beneath a tree, 

And sweet Maiy loved to gather. 

Gather flowers there with me. 

On a balmy summer evening 
When the moon was in her pride, 
We were strolling by the river, — 
Sweetheart Mary by my side. — 
There I told her that I loved her 
As I worshipped at her shi'ine; 
It was there sweet Maiy promised, 
Mary promised to be mine. 

There is the clearing on the south side 
I prepared with greatest care, — 
There is the orchard that I planted 
Of the apple, peach and pear. 
On the Okaw's sluggish waters 
Where we often came to row, 
Thei'e I built a cot for Maiy, 
For Mary long ago. 

There is the graveyard and the chapel, 

The daisy and the rose. 

That is whei^e my sweetheart Mary 

Is sleeping in repose, 

And my hopes with gentle Mary 

Lie buried in the clay, 

For with her my dream of childhood, 

Of childhood passed away. 



CiA689978 

nFC-l 1922 



HOPES, DREAMS AND MEMORIES 

LEADING 

It seems but yesterday that you and I 

Strolled through the pasture and the woodland dell. 

I led you on rough places, gently took your hand 

To help you on the ways I knew so well. 

I taught you laughter of the bi-eeze and brook, 

The joys of flowers and the skies and trees, 

The love song of the robin and the thnash, 

The sweets of honey and the sting of bees. 

But yestesday you toddled by my side, 

Today, I need you, as you did me then. 

To teach me the joys and beauties today; 

It is yesterday I would live again. 

Lead me over rough places and through the wood 

And on till I come to the deep, cold liver 

And there holding your strong, yoimg hand in mine 

My weary heart shall not falter or quiver 

Holding your hand in mine I shall step into the 

[stream; 
Your courage and faith, will follow I know 
To the brink, and it will not be so hard 
If you lead me as far as you can go. 
Then tru.<*ting in a higher power than man, 
I will pass out and on, beyond today. 

Await your coming at the farther shore, 

Where I again will lead the way. 



THE ABYSS 

The night is dark and dreary, 
The soul is full of fear. 
There is an awful silence 
And the abyss is so near. 
The body weak and weary, 
The ni'lnd too tii-ed to think, 
The soul so sad and lonely 
Slumber? on the brink. 
The night so dark and silent, 
Weary the body and soul. 
The ever yawning abyss 
Awaits another toll. 



HOPES, DREAMS AND MEMORIES 



THE IVY VINE. 

It was many years ago 
That a tiny ivy vine 
Took a fancy to our cottage, 
And began to creep and clnib. 
Inch by inch and year by year 
It grew and spread with never a fear. 
Until it covered the cottage over 
And wound its tendrils round eveiy door. 
The sparrows nested beneath the eaves 
And reared their young mid the ivy leaves. 
It took away my desire to roam 
When the breeze in the ivy sang of home. 
Home, home, home, sweet home. 

It was many a year ago. 
That the ivy vine of love 
Bound our eager heajts together 
With rich blessings from above. 
Inch by inch and year by year, 
With subtle grace it drew us near, 
Until it filled our life and heart 
And bound us nevermore to part. 
There are many pleasant memories 
Nestled amid those ivy leaves. 
And many soothing melodies 
Heard thei'e below the eaves 
My heart turns back wherever I roam 
To hear the song in the ivy at home, 
Home, home, home, sweet home. 

The ivy vine has died 

Just as hopes have died before. 

And left its grim old skeleton 

Still clinging I'ound the door. 

The leaves have dropped and faded away 

And gone is the beauty of night and day. 

The cottage is vacant, the loved one's are gone, 

But like the old ivy my heart clings alone. 

It clings to the memories — but again I must roam 

With the song of the breeze 

Of the former sweet home. 

Home, home, home, sweet home. 




There are manq pleasant memories 
Nestled amid those ivq leaves, 

And mani^ soothing melodies 
Heard there belou? the eaues. 



HOPES, DREAMS AND MEMORIES 



IMMORTAL 

Hope preceded me at biitli, 

Hope preceded heaven and earth, 
And in space, with its vast scope; 

There was only hope, just hope. 
It guided me through out the years, 

It led my way, through sighs and tears. 
In desolation it counsel gave, 

It beckoned from beyond the grave. 
None seemed to know, that I was dead, 

And not a Psalm or prayer was said; 
But on the close of life's short day, 

Hope like a sunbeam passed away. 
Then night, dark night, about me stole, 

Death, garnered unto its self, my soul. 
For hope had vanished, as the breath 

That passes in the hour of death. 
So calm, so dead within, and still, 

The body wanders about at will 
Drifting amid my fellow men, 

Awaiting, to be born again. 



LULLABY 

Slowly the drowsy eyelids close, 
Dear little baby, sweetly repose. 
One hand on your brow and one on your breast 
Nothing di.sturbs my little one's rest. 
Sleep, little darling, while you may. 
Many the wake before you're gray. 
Many the heartache, sigh and tear. 

Sleep, little one. while mother is near. 
Slowly the sun sinks in the west, 

While mother lulls her baby to i-est, 
The day has kissed her last good-by, 
And nature sings her lullaby. 

Lullaby, lullaby. 

Hush baby, do not cry 

Thru the g)-een meadow or down the dear lane 

Father will come to his darling. 



HOPES, DREAMS AND MEMORIES 

LONGING FOR HOME 

I never left my home before and shall not go again, 
I have an awful hurting and a longing and a pain. 
I want to see my children, my wife and all the rest, 
Of all the places in the world — my home it is the 
best. 

How I want to see the chickens around the old barn- 
door 

To pet and feed them with my hand as I have done 
before. 

I want to hear the little pigs a' squealing in tlieir sty 

And walk within the garden fair where hollyhocks 
grow high. 

I want to hear the song my wife is singing sweet 

and gay. 
The while she works and watches our little ones at 

play. 
I want to see my mother — ^just standing by the gate 
To watch and wait for someone who is ever, ever late 

I never left my home before and shall not go again, 
It brings the tear-dx'ops to my eye, this awful hurt 

and pain. 
I always keep on dreaming of the cozy cot of mine. 
And shall hereafter cling to it as would an ivy vine. 

When the evening shadows fall, and the day has 

sunk to rest. 
Then my spirit homeward bounds to the ones I love 

the best. 
I can feel the soft embrace of the boy upon my knee, 
And his tender farewell kiss, like a blessing clings 

to me. 



WVio? The Trinity never works alone, 
And when they enter an earthly home 

They make death the honored host. 

And take one for the Father, one for the Son, 

And one for the Holy Ghost. 
As death claims you, we wonder who 

Will be the other two. 



1 



HOPES, DREAMS AND MEMORIES 

THANKSGIVING 

The childrciis coming home affain, 

On next Thanksgiving day, 
And all the things thats good to eat, 

Ave carefully stored away. 
There's pumpkins dried for pumpkin pies, 

Apples and mince-meat to, 
And every day I hear them say, 

These things are not for you. 
The childrens coming home again 

From homes that are far away 
Back to see the old folks 

And spend Thanksg^iving day. 
So economize and Hoverize 

And plan each whole day through 
Pile up the logs and kill the hogs 

There coming home to you. 
There will be rabbit pie and chicken pie, 

And popcorn in a ball. 
Thei-e will be custard pie and lemon pie, 

And enough baked for all. 
Our trials will be forgotten, 

There will be no sorrow then. 
It will be a treat, to watch them eat, 

When the kids come home again. 
I have kept the hunters from my fields 

I have fed the pretty quails 
I have them tame enough I know 

To sprinkle .salt on their tails 
I want then to tell as big a tale 

As any huntsman dare. 
To lug and pull at a big .sack full 

Of pheasant, quail and hare. 
We have the callai- almost full, 

There's treasures stored in here, 
There's treasures old, that's worth pui'e gold. 

To drive away grim care. 
So economize and Hoverize, 

And store the things away. 
It won't be said, that's all not fed. 

On next Thanksgiving day. 



HOPES, DREAMS AND MEMORIES 

AMERICA 

America, thy sons have died upon the battle field 
Defending liberty and right, which we shall never 
yield. 
America, thy sons are free, no noble, prince or slave. 
The brotherhood of man will be where'er thy flag 
shall wave. 
America, thy stars and stripes shall ever wave o'er 
thee. 
No foreign powers shall hold domain over thy 
Democracy. 
The stars shine forth for evei-y state. The red is 
blood that's true. 
The white is purity and right, — for loyalty the 
blue. 
No matter if I cross the sea, no matter where I roam 
The dearest spot on earth to me is America, my 
home. 
America, America, America, my home. 

The dearest spot on earth to me, 
America, mv home 



THE CARESS 

The day loved night, and night loved day, 

Though each one had its sphere, 
They never fairly met I know. 
But they came so very near, 

At mom the day with smiling face, 

And annor plate of gold, 
Invited night to share its light. 

And hear the stoiy old. 

Timid night, with heart so light, 

Could not tary long; 
And so the day, wore on its way, 

And sang loves old sweet song. 

But at evening tide, the night came back 

And sought to meet the day, 

And so, day lingei-ed yet a while, 

And kissed and went its way. 



HOPES, DREAMS AND MEMORIES 



WHY DON'T YOU WRITE 

Why don't you write the old folks? 
Their hair is turning gray, 
Their heails ai-e sad and lonely 
Since you have gone away. 
The house seems big and lonesome, 
The music hushed and ^till, 
Your places there are vacant 
That no one else can fill. 
They look in vain for letters, 
They pray for you to write, — 
They are lonely, oh so lonely, 
Why don't you write tonight. 

Why don't you write to the old folks 
Just send a line back home. 
Father and mother are lonely 
Just living there alone 
So many things to remind them 
Of the joys of bygone days 
When the sun of hope was shining 
And you wei'e one of the rays. 
The sun will soon be sinking, 
Then twilight and the night, — 
Their hearts are sad and lonely. 
Why don't you write tonight? 

Why don't you write to the old folks 
Their day will soon be over, 
The dear old home will vanish 
And never will be more. 
The place would be so dreary 
Without the old folks thei-e, 
With only vacant firesides 
And memories clustered fair. 
So write them a long, long letter, 
Turn up the flickering light, 
Cheer up their hearts a little, — 
Why don't you write tonight? 

They sit alone by the fire-light, 

They watch the embers glow 

As they have watched together 

So many years ago 

Before you came to cheer them, 

Before you went away, 

Before the sun was setting, 

Before their hair turned grey. 

Those hopes and dreams and memories 

Are pictured in the light; 

You are in every picture, — 

Why don't you write tonight? 



HOPES, DREAMS AND MEMORIES 



OKAW LULLABY 

From out the woodland pasture lot, 

The dusky shadows creep, 
And the murmur of the Okaw, 

Is a lullaby of sleep. 
For one can sleep so peaceful 

With that music in their ears, 
And mother's lullaby will dry. 

An ocean full of tears. 
I seem to feel her presence, 

Catch the love light in her eye, 
As I drift back to childhood 

And my mother's lullaby. 
Let me doze before the fire, 

And hear that song again, 
While in my heart I will learn 

To lovo and bless my fellow-men. 

The logs piled high upon the fire, 

The gun hangs in the rack. 
And hides are tacked upon the door, 

Of that old river shack 
There are apples strung upon a string, 

To raftei's over head. 
The tables set for anyone, 

Thats wanting to be fed, 
The latch strings out, the, open door, 

You'r always welcome there. 
And just drop in when you pass by, 

You will find a solace there. 
The shadows play on the wall 

And upon a spotless floor 
And in my dreams I wonder back 

And live it all once more. 

The whippoorwill is singing in the tree over head, 

It's time that all good children. 
Should be tucked away in bed, 

And munnurs of the Okaw are a pleasmg lullaby; 
And all your troubles, like the clouds. 

Just keep on drifting by. 
The music of a pack of hounds, 

In fox chase o'ei- the hill, 
Is mingled with the mournful song, 

Of the doleful whippoorwill. 
That river shack is really home, 

By love and nature ble&sed 
And the munnur of the Okaw 

Is a song of home and rest. 



HOPES, DREAMS AND MEMORIES 



Oh sing to me a lullaby, sing it soft and low, 

Sing it as my mother sang it, many years ago. 
I seem to feel her presence, 

Catch the love-light in her eye, 
As I drift back to childhood, 

And my mother's lullaby, 
I'll climb upon her dear old knee, 

My head upon her breast 
And listen to her lullaby, and lull my soul to rest, 

Just let me doze before the fire, 
Or watch the embers glow 

While in my dreams I wander back, 
Back to the long ago. 



TO A FRIEND 

The night is dark, the hour is late, 
The fire is burning low. 
And I open memory's album 
To the distant long ago. 

Not a shadow comes before me — 
I am a boy once more, 
I live the life I used to live 
In the happy days of yore. 

I loved you, friend, so dearly 
With all my boyish heart. 
Of all my joys and all my hopes 
My soul gave you a part. 

But you were ever silent, 
You spoke no love for me, 
And yet you seemed to be a part 
Of my eteinity. 

We glided down life's river, 
For a whih; we kept apace, — 
But at length you drifted from me, 
Fi'om your old accustomed place. 

But in my memory's album 
You ai'e always present still. 
And in my heart there is a place 
That no or.e else can fill 



HOPES, DREAMS AND MEMORIES 



THE HOUR OF DREAMS 

Sitting alone by the firelight, 

Watching the embers glow, 
Deep shadows falling about me 

While the night wind murmurs low; 
The past, the future, the present 

Each have their own little theme, 
As they mingle harmoniously pleasant 

In the beautiful hour of dreams. 

Fancy gathers the shadows, 

Blends them with hopes bright glow. 
Mingles the trials of today 

With memories of long ago. 
My hopes of the past, my pleasures 

Are pi-esent, each one, it seems 
To take the form of a blessing sublime 

In this beautiful hour of dreams. 

The future — a hope and a fancy, 

The past — a memory old; 
Tomorrow — ^today's fulfillment 

When yesterday's tale is told. 
Today is the intermediate, — 

Life is on trial, it seems, — 
The verdict is left to memory 

In the beautiful hour of dreams. 




Fancy gathers the shadows, 

Blends them with hopes bi'ight glow. 
Mingles the ti'ials of today 

With memories of long ago. 



HOPES, DREAMS AND MEMORIES 



A MESSAGE 

1 will send you a rose from home, Uul, 
From the gardens you love so well, 
Tenderly cared by hands that are deai- 
At the home where you used to dwell. 
It will bring you a memory of home, lad, 
Each petal— a heait-beat true. 
*Tis the color-blend of love, lad, 
Like the home that blends into you. 

I will send you a message of home, lad, 
Of the home that is far away, 
Of the home that guarded your childhood 
When you wei-e carefree and gay. 
The rose has a varying chami, lad. 
Like love that is ever new, 
And each relaxing petal 
Is a hope it holds for you. 

I will send you a rose from home, lad. 
They are blooming for you today, 
And their fragrance on the breeze, lad 
Must reach you by night and day. 
No matter where you roam, lad, 
No matter what be your fate. 
The roses are blooming at home, lad, 
Ajar is the welcoming gate. 

Look, look at the rose again, lad. 

See its warm rich heai-t unfold 

The secrets hidden beneath, lad, 

Are like a tale that is told. 

The good Great God of Love, lad, 

Looked on the bud and smiled. 

And the smile went into its heart, lad. 

To remain there undefiled. 



Poetry, is tmth, emotion and imagination inter- 
mingled with hopes, dreams and memories set to 
rhyme by the impulse of the soul. 



HOPES, DREAMS AND MEMORIES 

DRIFTING. 

The j'ears roll onward one by one,— 
The lessons learned, the laurels won, 
The deeds of mercy, the thoughts of good, 
The things we never undeiistood. 
The things that i"«ally makeup life — 
The hope, the love, the joy and strife. 
They all go drifting, drifting on, 
Drifting, after we are gone. 

A hope, a smile, a thought, a deed, 

A helping hand to those in need, 

A song of praise, an honest prayer, 

A heart to wish a soul to dare, 

A cheer to drive away the tears 

And cleanse the soul of doubts and fears, — 

These things will live when we are gone, 

Drifting, drifting, drifting on. 

We live, we die, we live again, — 
We haunt the haunts of living men. 
And tho they really never know — 
They share our joy, they shai-8 our woe; 
They share our life of right and wrong, 
For we keep mingling with the throng, 
And with the world we drift along. 
Drifting, after we are gone. 



EGO 

That you make gifts so free, 
It is not for the joy of giving" 
But only the joy of telling- 
How much you have done for me. 
As the farmer plows his ground 
And sows the golden grain. 
You scatter your deeds of kindness 
Only for hope of gain. 



HOPES, DREAMS AND MEMORIES 

THE ROSE 

When you'r ail knocketl out, 
And you've took to your bed, 
And you 'aint a giving a darn 
Whether you'r livin' or dead. 
When along comes a neighbor. 
With just a rose or two, 
And sorter gives you a smile, 
As he vsay's these'r for you. 

These the great American bea\ities, 

With their damask smell, 

That lifts your weary soul 

From the veiy gates o' hell 

All at once you git a longin' 

And there's a tingling' in your nose, 

And you keep a lookin' and a lookin' 

And a smellin' o' the rose. 

Then yer eyes get to leakin' 

And your friend, the neighbor knows 

And you try to hide your fee! in' 

Mid the petals o' the rose. 

Yer love the whole v^-^orl' better. 

But your thoughts you'll not tell, 

And all that you can do 

Is just to look and smell. 

Fer the smellin ' o' the rose. 
Is the sweete.st smellin' yet. 
It's a soft sweet smellin' 
That yer smeller won't forget. 
There's flowers just as pretty, 
In the green house and the dell, 
But there ain't a flower bloomin' 
That can beat the rose for smell. 



Justice is a daughter of right, a sister of equality 
and a friend to all; yet how few strive to make her 
acquaintance. 



HOPES, DREAMS AND MEMORIES 

CONTENTMENT 

Contentment never has turned a wheel in progress, 

Self-satisfied she takas the ti'odden road 

With never a murmer for her fate or hardships, 

Accepting life as pre-ordained by God. 

With mind too listless, slow to compi'ehend 

Her own condition, slow to make amend. 

Contentment never yet has led the way, 
Along she dallies on the beaten road. 
Discoui'ageing all those who seek advancement 
And cursing those who try to ease the load. 
Contentment never once has seen a vision, 
And hope has never throbbed within her breast. 
Desire to cany out a deed or mission 
Are to her unknown, all she wants is i-est. 

Contentment is the fate of sinipleminded, 

The idol of the indolent, supine, 

Debased and lost, to paths of progress blinded 

Are those who worsliip at her shadowy shrine. 

It is the slogan of the bold oppressor, 

Altho it is not harbored in his breast. 

He will not follow in her path but preaching 

He goes to recommend it to the rest. 



IHOl'GHTLESS 

When the body feels old and the soul cold. 
And the mind overburdened with care, — 
How can one laugh at the world's light chaff 
When each breath should be a prayer! 

When the soul's domain is a house of pain 

And each moment a trouble new, 

How can one play that the soul is gay 
And make the world laugh too! 

The lips may smile once in a while, 

But the soul can no joy impait, 

For the only smile that is worth the while 

Ls a smile that comes from the heart. 



HOPES, DREAMS AND MEMORIES 

WHEN HARRY IS AWAY 

The little teddy-bear lies forsaken and alone, 
Thei'e is no one to hold him tig-ht. 
A di'eadful silence hangs over our home — 
For Harry is away tonight 

The old cow missed him at milking' time 
And the neig-hbor boy over the way, 
Kept whistling and shouting out under the tree 
For Harry to come and play. 

The old dog meets every boy dowm the road, 
He greets them with joy and delight; 
Mistaken he returns to the house and whines, 
Thei"e is no one to play with to night. 

And father, he sits with his head in his hands 
On the step by the kitchen door, 
For it brings to his mind the sorrow and pain 
If Harrv came back no moi-e. 



IDLE MOMENTS 

There are precious moments that glide away 
While life is joyous and young; and gay, — 
Altho they are nice they never come twice 
And often ai-e idled away. 

Tomorrow will be but another today 
For spreading kindnes upon our way, 
To let folks find we're impx'oving our mind 
With moments once idled away. 

Those idle moments will drift into years, 
They cause regret, many sighs and tears. 
Let us strive with might to do what is right 
In moments once idled away. 

A moment once past will return nevermore, 
Us mission on earth is done and over. 
Each fleeting breath brings us nearer death; 
Still moments we idle awav. 



HOPES, DREAMS AND MEMORIES 

YOU AND 1. 

To Sister Jennie 

The family pictures on the wall 

Of father and mother and children all, 

Are fading as shadows dull and gray; 

Like the rest we shall pass away 
Like the rest we shall say good-bye; 
All that are left are you and I, 

Just you and I! 

Flesh and blood may pass away, 
Fade like pictures dull and gray, 
But something lives time to defy, 
And that can never,never die. 
The light o^ virtue, good to see 
That leads the way for you and me, 

For you and me. 

Just like the farmer sows his seeds 
So we spread our thoughts and deeds. 
Often the hai-vest is so long 
That others reap when we are gone. 
Reaping the hai-vest we have sown, 
Blending and mixing it with their own. 

Like you and I. 

May we spread and sow the best of seed 
Of noble thoughts and noble deeds, 
Clear the ground of weeds and tares. 
And pui'ge the heart of petty cares, 
So that others, passing, see 
A good example in you and me, 

In you and me. 

Memory holds the after-glow 
Of sweet days — the long ago , 
When the others cleared the way 
For a bright and better day. 
Sowed the blessings 'round us free, 
Paved the way for you and me, 

For you and me. 

Fading pictures on the wall, 
How we love them one and all! 
How we love what they have done. 
They who fought for us and won. 
We love the smile, we love the sigh, 
That they gave in passing by, — 
You and I, 

You and I! 



HOPES, DREAMS AND MEMORIES 

AT THE GATE 

At the dying of the day, 

As the twilight tuins to gray, 

And nature sings her lullaby of home, 

There is longing in my breast 

For the ones I love the best, 

And my thoughts go drifting 

Back to childhood's home. 

And the gathering shadows play. 

Mid the locks of silver gray 

Of my mother as she watches at the gate, 

As she shades her failing eye. 

As she scans the passers-by 

She is watching for the stragglers that are late 

I can see the smiling face, 

I can feel the wann embrace. 

Of my mother as she condescends ta wait 

For each member of the flock. 

Not a one is there forgot, 

Thei-e she greets us as we enter in the gate. 

When I'm weaiy of the strife 

In the twilight of my life, 

And my footsteps seem to falter by the way, — 

With lier face so calm and sweet, 

She'll be waiting thei-e to greet 

And hei- wrinkled hand shall lead me on the way. 



LOVE AND MARCH 

Love like a March-day steals upon us unawares, 
Changeable as weather, bringing joy and pain. 
Soaring high with hope and joy, sinking with despair 
Thrilled with sunshine of sweet love, saddened by 

[the rain. 
Lovers never will be, no never will be, 
No, never can be, the same. 

He knows there is only one woman, 

She knows there is only one man. 

They are just like the weather, they can not live 

[together 
And they can not live apart anywhei-e; 
Love like a March-day serves a wicked fare. 



HOPES, DREAMS AND MEMORIES 



LEOLA 

We heai'd you lisp your baby lay, 

We watched you grow from day to day. 

Your winning way became an art, — 

In all good work you took a pait. 

You entered our life, our heart, our soul, 

And glided on to a higher goal. 

You gave us hope and love anew, — 

And Salem, Leola, is is pi'oud of you. 

The Globe chose well, the fairest lass 
No faii-er beauty could suiiiass, — 
And doubly sweet to those who know 
And catch a glimpse of the soul aglow. 
The world to face you smile with pride, 
Your own true self, no flaws to hide. 
Your winning way, so pure and ti-ue, — 
Why would not Salem be proud of you ? 




MISS LEOLA AIKMAN. Salem. ILLINOIS 

And Salem, Leolci, is proud of i^ou 



HOPES, DREAMS AND MEMORIES 

THE ORIGAN OF WOMAN 

Inspired by the Greek Mythology 
Tlie making of woman and method wrought, 
Was to the Gods an after thought 
No material was left from Man 
So they just used what came to hand. 
They took the scraps from snake and dove, 
The wolf and deer and hate and love, 
And gave to this an Angels face, 
And clothed it in deceit and grrce. 
They kindled love-light in her eyes 
And formed her mouth with smiles and lies. 
They made her voice both soft and low 
And a winning way like the dove and doe, 
And then to show their heavenly art 
Of the elements they made her heart. 
And the Gods thought the man so blest; 
They went to hell and borrowed the rest. 
To man, the Gods, this creature give, 
And with, or without her, he can not live. 



THE VAMPIRE. 

From the Famous Picture 

She swayed too and fro, sang a lullaby low, 

And now and again she kissed, 
Like an angel of death, she drank of his breath, 

And another was add to her list. 
He gave not a care, that she lingered there. 

He loved and longed to tell. 
With scorn and pride, she threw him aside. 

And only laughed when he fell. 

He only knew his love wa.'^ ti'uo, 

The lady sweet and fair. 
He would give his life, to call her his wife. 

But the woman, she did not care. 
If he trod again the walks of men, 

He would seek and know the wrong, 
To be caressed, he would bare his breast. 

And know the Vampire's song. 



HOPES, DREAMS AND MEMORIES 



THE GOAL. 

When soul goes foii;h to play the role 

Of lover to another soul 
It wandered forth to find its mate, 

Clothed in the human garb estate. 
It cares not for the cloth of man, 

It cares not for the class or clan, 
Nor weather coui'se, or weather fair. 

False or true, it gives no care. 
It gives no heed for mortal fate, 

Wihen soul finds soul and claims a mate. 

When flesh, strolls forth in search of bliss, 

To know the joy of mortal kiss, 
It cares not for the gain or toll, 

It cares not for the wish of soul 
Of beauty, wealth and warm caress 

It only knows the loveliness, 
It knows no law of God or man. 

Nor, does it for the future plan. 
It takes the chance and dares its fate, 

When heart meet heart, to choose a mate. 

When heart and soul, but chance to meet, 

In highway or by^vay, in alley or street. 
It is joy assured, to mortal man, 

What ever his station, his kin oi' clan. 
The cottage, or hovel or castle is home. 

For love is assured, where ever they roam. 
When heart and soul cooperate, 

And eaith and heaven choose a mate. 
The God of love has blessed the goal 

When heart, meets heart, and soul meets soul. 



A dream was born of hope, clothed in anticipation, 
sustained by energy, nourished by ambition, became 
a fact and lived in memory. 



HOPES, DREAMS AND MEMORIES 



CAMOUFLAGE. 

If 1 shuuki stop laughing' a while, 
Despair thiowB a blur o'er my eyes, 

Denying my right to love eternal, 
Clouds all the glory of earth and sky. 

I laugh, though my heart is breaking, 

I sing to drive away care, 
And all the world thinks I'm contented, 

Though my future is only despair. 

I smile and I laugh and I sing. 

But it's only my lips that smile, 
If I only could stop for a minute, 

If I could only rest for a while. 

Despair knows my faults and failings, 
It knows every thought of my soul, 

And always before me its challange unfurling, 
Denying my heart its goal. 

I could bear my sins and follies, 

If they were before me unfurled, 
But always I smile and laugh and sing, 

Anothers, to hide from the world. 



Elizabeth, ran to her aunt one day, 

With hands all covered with ink; 
"Wash them off right quick," she said, 

"For I don't know what papa would think". 
"Oh!" aunty said, "your papas no good. 

And it don't matter much to you". 
She said, with a sigh and a tear in the eye, — 

"Well aunty, its the best we can do". 



HOPES, DREAMS AND MEMORIES 

A GARDEN OF DREAMS. 

I planted a beautiful garden 

A garden of hopes most fair 

And visions of rapture was given a part 

And all had my tenderest care 

The fairest of beautiful gardens 
With roses that sparkle with dew 
And dreams of tenderest beauty 
And a fountain of love, for you 

Each day ha^ its sun and shadow 

Each day I labored there 

For a garden of themes and a garden of dreams 

Must have not a weed or tare, 

I built a beautiful cottage 
Beside a rippling streaj-n 
Though all alone, I built us a home 
With only a hope and di^eam. 



THE GROUND-HOG. 

I ^\■ish I were 'g-voundho.o-, 

As wise and cunning too. 

I'd find a warm and sheltered spot 

And sleep the winter through. 

I would not fret about the cold. 

Nor having coal to buy; 

I'd beat ohe landlord out of rent, 

And let the grocer sigh. 

But one thing makes me leary, 

Some might think I had died, 
And go to work and skin me 
And bleach and tan my hide 



The home is a co-operative love colony, over which 
the father and mother presides and each member 
contributes love and devotion in accordance with 
their ability and takes from the common store in 
accordance to their nee^ls. 



HOPES, DREAMS AND MEMORIES 

BEAUTIFUL EYES 

No aitist can paint your beautiful face, 

No sag*e can fathom youi* eye 

With its sunshine and rain, 

Its joy and its pain, 

Its mingling- of earth and sky. 

They gather their beauty from flowers of the field, 

From the twinkling stai*s of the skies. 

Earth opens her fold of beauties untold 

In the depths of your wonderful eyes. 

Those beautiful eyes, those beautiful eyes. 

Kindled with light of paradise. 

Earth opens her fold of beauty untold 

In the depths of those wonderful eyes. 



RETROSPECTION 

If we were only young again 

To do our whole life over, 
Knowing then w^hat we know now, — 

Would you be my lover? 
Could you turn the hands of time 

Back some thirty years 
Would you happily live with me 

Thru all the sighs and tears ? 

Would you yield the joy and pain 

Shared along with me? 
Would soul and heart agree 

To part if you could clearly see 
The future layed before your eyes 

Unfolded like the sea 
If all the joys in years to come 

Would be along with me ? 

If we could only roam again 

Thna childhood's happy hours. 
When we climbed hills together 

Amid the thorns and flowei's; 
If we but stood where once we stood 

Some thirty years ago 
Would you say "yes" or love me less- 

If YOU could know? 



HOPES, DREAMS AND MEMORIES 



THE HOUND PUP. 

I received a letter, the other day 
From the boy, my boy, who is far away, 
Inquiring about the old hound pup 
W^th which he used to play. 
"Now Dad" said he "I think a lot 
Of that old pup, — take care of him 
And never give him up. 

He went with me thru childhood. 

He followed high and low 

Thru the sultry heat of summer 

And winter's ice and snow. 

We have hunted the woods together. 

He led in many a chase 

And leaped the highest fences 

With subtle, easy grace. 

When I left home that morning 
I took him to the brook, 
And we sympathised together 
In a grassy, shady nook. 
I told my joys and sori'ows 
Told him my hopes and feai's. 
And we leaped with joy together, 
And I bathed him in tears. 

Now I love that ugly ci"eature 

As only a boy knows how, 

How I long to see the dear old farm 
And milk the jersey cow, 
And have the old hound meet me 
Down there by Cory Stark's, 
And hear the kids that pass me 
Say 'that hound is Hany Clark's.' 

For I am proud of that old pup, 
And he is proud of me, 
And when I can I'm coming home 
That old hound pup to see." 



HOPES, DREAMS AND MEMORIES 

WAITING. 

When you wait for news or letter 

From some one veiy dear, 
Your heart is filled wnth long-ing 

And your soul is full of fear. 
Then a hoard of doubts and fancies 

Come to drive away the sleep, 
And spectres of "the might-have-been" 

Around your pillow creep 

Your nerves are all a'quiver, 

Your heart is beating fast. 
As you call for reinforcement 

From the knowledge of the past. 
With faith and hope and courage 

You have met the hord before, 
But this foe is never vanquished 

And the warfare never over. 

But when the fight is over 

And doubts and fears have fled, 
And faith and hope and courage 

Have tucked you into bed. 
You sleep so calm, so peaceful, 

Your nei'ves don't jump at all 
When you hear the postman's footstep 

Just coming up the hall. 



JAZZ 

A stan'ing waif once gathered 

The sounds he knew so well, 

The rolling of his vitals, 

A tortured soul in hell. 

The song of the screeching night-owl, 

A donkey's mournful bray. 

The wailing of a tom-cat, 

A debt he could not pay. 
He thi-ew them all together, 
His woes all in a mass; 

And the world it sang his sorrow 

And called the dam thing, JAZZ. 



HOPES, DREAMS AND MEMORIES 



BABY 

Tired of playing with her toys, 
Tired of making a fuss and a noise. 

Just too weaiy to romp and play, 

Baby is closing up her day. 

Tired and hungry and sleepy too, 
Did not know just what to do. — 
Mother knows, God bless her aoul ! 
Bread and milk in a great big bowl. 
She puts her in her nice high chair 
And latches the gate with skill and care, 
Sees that baby has plenty to eat. 
Kisses her once and calls her "sweet", 
Then goes about her work and care 
And leaves the baby eating there. 

But baby's head just bent so low,- — 
Eating bi'ead and milk, you know, 
Kept on looking down her nose 
That her eyes just had to close. 
Now and then she missed a bite 
And you may not think it right. 
Evening shadows 'round her creep,— 
Bless her heart She's fast asleep. 

Did not care no more for toys. 
Did not hear no fuss nor noise. 
Bats her eyes and leaves them closed. 
Following where the sandman goes. 
Bowed her head and passed away 
Where the dusky shadows play. 



HOPES, DREAMS AND MEMORIES 

CHICAGO'S I WILL 

One selfish thought; — to win the race, 
Your slogan written on every face. 
One selfish thought — to guide the soul, 
Onward, on to a selfish goal. 
No wonder the world with awe is still 
At your great power of "I will! I will!" 

Just Oiie thought, — and that of self; 
The rest of the world but made for pelf. 
Heed not their pleadings, the world defy. 
Just one thought — to do or to die. 
And on your soul that is dead and still 
We still can read "I will!, I will!" 

When at the end of the maddening race 

With "I will"! stamped upon your face,! 

With blighted mind and withered soul 

You will march right up when they call the roll, 

And say to St. Peter with a look to kill, — 

"I am going in, — I will! I will!" 



FIFTY YEARS 

Fifty years of drifting thats sad, 

Fifty years of failure thats bad, 

Haven't a goal in view never had, 

Just dreaming and drifting yet glad. 

Fifty years of sunshine and of rain. 

Fifty years of pleasure and of pain, 

Years and years of labor little gain, 

Separating chaflF from ■ the grain. 

What about the future don't know, 

Got to reap the harvest that I sow. 

Lots and lots of troubles they grow. 

Can't make the chaflF into dough. 



The soul js the master mind of human instinct. 
It has a greater function in the moulding of our 
destinies than reason, education and environment. 



HOPES, DREAMS AND MEMORIES 

TOMORROW 

As we stand at the door of the futui-e 

With the curtains so closely drawn 
That we see not the tx-ials of tomorrow, 

But the light that is urging us on; 
Comes the hope that in future sunshine 

There will be no signs of rain, 
And a hope that in future pleasures 

There will be no thoughts of pain. 

The hopes and anticipations 

The thoughts of secession of sorrow 
Make light the trials of today 

In the liopes of a brighter tomorrow. 
We mould great plans for the future, 

We clad them in blight array, 
And the greatest joys of tomorow 

Are the hopes of a dark today. 

For a hope that is bom and nourished 

And a dream that is dreamed and kept 
Will kindle our latent powers 

And 'rouse the desires that slept. 
The greatest curse of mankind 

Is the hope that dies at birth, 
And a dream undreamed, and a song unsung, 

Is a sorrow to all earth. 
So cherish the hopes and visions. 

And nourish the flickering gleam. 
The joys of tomorrow are only a part 

Of what today is a dream. 



HOPE 

Go into the dark of darkness, 

Go into the depths of despair. 

Dwell in the midst of doubts and fears,- 

Hope will fmd you there. 

Courage may faint and falter, 

Faith may fall by the way, 

But hope and its reassurance 

Will beckon you every day. 



HOPES, DilEAMS AND IvIfiMORIES 

THE GOLDEN RULE 

We shall leani to love our brothejs, 
The world we need not fear, 
For war shall cease for ever, 
And hate shall disappear, 
The strangers and the alien 
We will welcome at our door. 
Teach them to love each other. 
And hate and war no more. 

We shall learn to war no more, 

The world shall live at peace, 

When we Icanv the golden rule, 

All hate and war shall cease, 

And peace on earth will be. 

Good will shall be to men, 

As yea would that others do to you, 

Do yea even so to them. 

On earth peace, to men, on earth peace, to men, 

As you woi'ld that others do to you. 

Do yea even so to them. 



AS LONG 

Humanity like a chain, is weak as its weakest link, 
Antl the world will not progi'ess, more than the 

weakest think. 
How can the heart be happy, how can love prevail, 
How can my soul be free, while others languish 

in jail. 
When the whole wide world is happy. 
When the whole wide world is fi-ee, 
When none are starving or cold, 
The whole shall include me. 
As long as there's a body in torment, 
As long as there's a soul in hell, 
As long as the world is in sorrow. 
It will include me as well. 



HOPES, DREAMS AND MEMORIES 

BEYOND 

WJien I pass on with time in flight, 
Into the dark of silent night, 
And into space and on and on, 
Following the path that all have gone. 
When I pass on and beyond life's ray, 
Into tomorrow and beyond today, 
Into the vast and all unknown, 
Taking death's journey alone. 

When I pass into the dark, of night, 
And out and on and beyond your sight, 
Into the mysteries alone to cope, 
I would like to take one ray of hope, 
Would like your blessing to follow there, 
The echo of your earnest prayer. 
The memories of your love so fond, 
When I pass into the great beyond. 

When I pass out and on and on 
Following the path that all have gone. 
If I could span the chasm spaned 
And gently lead you by the hand 
Show you the path that all have trod 
Into the mysteries of earth and God. 
To have a voice and power to tell 
And give assurance that all is well 

When I pass on, with time in her flight. 
Into the quiet and silent night, 
Into the silence that softly creep, 
Into the long and eternal sleep, — 
If you were there and I could know. 
That where I went you to would go; 
For where you were, love would abound, 
And hope would dwell in the great beyond 



The sunlight was the only one that would dure 
To stroke the tresses of one so fair 

And he was caught in strands of dark brown hair 
And a willing captive nestled there. 



HOPES, DREAMS AND MEMORIES 

HONEY DEW 

A little flower iiloiie did dwell, 
In a grassy shady dell, 
None of it's kind to share it's lot 
Alone it grew almost forgot. 
But now and then the honey bee, 
Bi'Ought it news of company. 
Brought it hope and faith anew 
As it sipped the honey dew. 

The little bee with pollen laden 
Stopped to see this blushing maiden 
Bi'ought it news from a far 
Fi'om another lonesome flower, 
Who confided in the bee 
How it longed for company. 
Told its hope and love so true. 
Clothed it in sweet honey dew. 

Here we are living all alone 
Only by the breezes known. 
The bee can tell how lone I've been. 
Far away from folk and kin. 
Thy honey dew is soft and sweet. 
Thy perfume a pleasing greet, 
And I think so much of you, 
Oh! honey dew. Oh! honey dew. 



In memoiy's album the pictures are so closely in- 
tei'woven that it is hard to distinguish between those 
which give us pleasure and those which recall heait- 
aches and tears. There are two tilings essential to 
the making of a picture — light and shadow — and in 
a perfect picture they are so blended together that 
it is impossible to distinguish their boundries. Strife 
and sorrow are the objects that come between us 
and the sun of happiness. Without the light and the 
shadow there would be no picture, no memory. 

The soul is as transmittable to posterity as red 
hair and freckles. 



HOPES, DREAiViS AND MEJViORIES 

TOM SCOPES 

I just want to tell you about a gay, 
A machinist, that works on the C. and E. I. 

He has a good word and a pleasant smile, 
And it will do you good, to chat him awhile. 

In his own creation, he finds a joy, 
Like a child would do, in a new found toy. 

He loves his work, like he loves a song; 
And he works and sings, the whole day long. 

You would dream a dream and smile a smile 
As Tom kept talking all the while; 

You'd dream of love, in flowers and brook, 
In a shady dell and quiet nook. 

Learning to love and hope and sing. 

Hunting a joy in cveiy thing; 
And all the world enjoying the sun. 

And God a talking to every one. 

And you'd be happy and learn to sing, 
About the world and joy and spring. 

You'd learn the song, and know the theme 
That God' is love and life a dream. 

I meant to talk of Tom and his lay 

Strange how things ixm together that way, 

Just a mingling and blending together 
Like a happy heart and sunny weather, 



Evei'v great achievement has been a fight against 
nature. 

If we must have slaveiy, let us enslave the ma- 
chine and set humanity free. 

Fi'eedom: at thy shrine is spilt the blood of our 
noblest sons of men, yet how often has thy heritage 
been yielded for a pot of pottage 

^usic is the hannonious vibrations of the voice of 
God through the souls of men. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




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